Kim Possible and all related characters and indicia are owned by the Disney Corporation. This work of fan fiction is written for pleasure, not profit.

WWLAOS: Good points, but you must remember: this story is told from Kim and Ron's points of view, and at the moment, not withstanding how much they may love each other, they're infatuated. They see each other through rose colored glasses, as it were. That will change, as it always does. As for Mr. Dr. Possible, he'll have a moment in the sun (in a later chapter) that I hope you'll find interesting.

Kim opened her eyes. The sky outside her bedroom window was pale. Her eyes went to her alarm clock. Just after six A.M. 'Barely four hours of sleep, and I'm wide awake,' she grumbled. Kim briefly entertained the notion of going back to sleep, but decided she probably wouldn't be able to. Her gazed wandered around the room until it lit on the picture on her dresser, the one of her and (sigh) Ron they'd had taken in one of those booth things the year before. Just the two of them, acting goofy. Or was it? She stared at the picture. Ron's arm was around her waist, and she was sitting on his lap. The booth had taken four pictures. She'd had this one blown up and framed because it was the best one, the most in focus. At least, that was what she had said at the time. Kim's eyes bored into the picture. Was that a touch of longing on his face, as he looked sideways at her while making one of his clownish faces? Was that more than happiness on her own face? She looked, she thought, almost thrilled.

Kim blinked and shook her head.

"I have to stop over analyzing things," she muttered. She threw back the covers and rolled out of bed.

"I need to burn off some of this excess energy," Kim resolved. She stripped off the oversized tee-shirt she used as a night gown. She donned a jog bra, then sweat pants, socks and running shoes. Kim debated briefly between a sweat shirt or a tee-shirt. It was September, and the mornings were cool.

"But not that cool." Tee-shirt it was. She paused at the door to her parent's bedroom, and knocked. On receiving a murmur of acknowledgment, she pushed the door open and leaned in. Her mother was lying on her side, with her father behind, one arm draped over her. Her father was looking at her, a bit bleary eyed.

"I'm going jogging, Daddy. I'm not sure how far. If I'm not going to be back in time for breakfast, I'll call." He nodded, said, "Ok, Kimmy," and went back to sleep.

The morning air was cool. After stretching Kim started off, slowly at first, building speed as she went. She had no goal in mind, at least not consciously. Still, several times she found herself heading toward a certain house and had to force herself to take a new course.

"It just wouldn't do for me to show up before seven," she told herself as she turned away for the third time. "Ron won't be up before nine anyway. Not on a Saturday. Be patient, Kim. Only three or so hours to wait." Three hours. One hundred and eighty minutes. Ten thousand, eight hundred seconds. No time at all. It would pass before she knew it. If only the seconds didn't feel like years.


Ron slumped against the counter in the kitchen, slurping coffee. He looked at the clock again, just to be sure. Seven a.m. He never got up that early on a weekend. Never. Especially with only six hours of sleep. He sighed. It was because of the excitement, he knew. He'd been so giddy when he got home that he'd feared he wouldn't be able to sleep at all. His mother had taken care of that, though. He frowned. His father had been happily supportive when Ron walked into the house. His mother, well. The first thing she'd said...well, not the very first thing, but close, was, "Why can't you go out with Rosalie Feinstein?" Ron sighed again.

"You mean, why can't I date some nice Jewish girl," he'd snapped. "Mom, I like Kim. The fact that she's a Gentile means absolutely nothing to me, so give it a rest!"

The request had fallen on deaf ears. Usually his mother wasn't this annoying. They did belong to a Reform Congregation, after all, but in this one area, Ron's mom was a picture of the stereotypical overbearing Jewish mother.

"But Ron..!"

"Mom, if I marry Kim, you're just going to have to learn to live with it!"

"Will she at least convert?"

"MOM!"

Ron sighed again. If there was one thing that drove him absolutely crazy, it was his mother's refusal to let him live his own life his own way. She just couldn't let it go.

"No wonder I spend as little time here as possible," Ron growled, glaring at the kitchen walls. Possible. He wished he hadn't thought that particular word. It brought Kim back into his mind, full force. Not that that was a bad thing, but still...

He eyed the clock. Five after. Too early. Kim might be up. Probably was. She always got up early. Ron snorted. That would take some getting used to, when...

If. If. It was too soon to be thinking about...marriage. To Kim. Marriage. Spending the rest of his life with her. Being the father of her children. Growing old with her. He shook his head.

"It's too soon to be thinking about that," he told himself.

"Why do you say that?" himself answered.

"Because...because...it just is!"

"Doesn't Dad always say that, when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with a girl, that's the time to ask the question?"

"Yeah, he says that."

"And you do want to spend the rest of your life with her, don't you?"

"Well, yeah."

"There you have it then."

He shook himself. 'I've got to get out of here, got to clear my head.' He made a beeline for the back door, practically ran out of the house. Straight into Kim.

"Hi, Ron," she said, blushing, smiling an embarrassed little smile. "I was out jogging and just happened to be in the neighborhood..." she explained. Ron grinned. 'Just happened to be in the neighborhood, my ass,' he said happily to himself. He stared at her, drinking her in. Her clothes were damp with sweat, and clung to her curves with a snugness that warmed his blood.

"I was just thinking of heading to your house, but I thought it might be a little early," he said. That wasn't exactly true, but...

"I know," Kim agreed apologetically. "I'm a little surprised that you're up."

"Well, you know. I couldn't sleep."

"Me either."

She was so damn beautiful, it was hard to concentrate. 'Get it together, Ron,' he chided himself.

"Uh, Kim, can we go somewhere?" Lame!

"Sure, where?"

"Uh, I dunno. Somewhere we can talk? We really need to talk, K. P."

"Talk?" Kim's voice went slightly apprehensive.

"Nothing bad," Ron assured her hastily. "Not bad. I just, well, I have so many thoughts whirling around in my head that I need to let them out."

Kim relaxed visibly. "Are you hungry?" she asked speculatively.

"Aren't I always?" Ron retorted, grinning.

"Let's head for my place. Mom'll probably have breakfast ready by the time we get there."

"Sounds like a plan to me," Ron acceded. He linked arms with Kim, and allowed her to lead him toward her home.